


A Little Less Bloodshed Would Be Nice

by orbingarrow



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dog Cops, Domestic Avengers, Falling In Love, Fluff with Feels, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Tony Is a Good Bro, WinterHawk Big Bang, You Will Pry Jarvis Out of My Cold Dead Hands, pizza dog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: Clint Barton may be a human train wreck, but when it comes to befriending ex-mind controlled assassins, he's pretty much the best there is.  Unfortunately, he's not nearly as good at being kind to himself.  Lucky for him, Bucky's got it covered.





	A Little Less Bloodshed Would Be Nice

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the art of the amazingly talented artist [Caz](http://cazdraws.tumblr.com) who everyone should follow because she's awesome and kind and so incredibly fun to work with! Seriously, check out her stuff. SO GOOD!

Clint kind of can’t believe he got Bucky to agree to his plan. And it’s obvious as the other Avengers stream into the gym to watch them spar that they can’t either.

“Are those eggs?” Bruce asks.

“Yup,” Clint says.

The eggs in question (two of them) are sitting off to the side of the mat while Clint straps on his sparring pads next to them. He never uses the pads when he spars with Natasha or Tony, and honestly, if it’d been his choice he wouldn’t be using them with Bucky either, but Bucky is stubborn about it.

Says he doesn’t want to be responsible for breaking Clint beyond repair.

As if.

Still, it’s progress Bucky’s willing to spar with him at all, so Clint is buckling in for the fun.

“How exactly did you convince anyone this was a good idea?” Tony asks. “Cause when I’m the one telling you to re-evaluate your life choices, you have hit rock bottom.”

“Well,” Clint says, glancing at the door and wondering when (if) Bucky and Steve are going to show. “Bucky wasn’t too hard to convince once I agreed to wear the pads. Steve took a little longer to come around, so Bucky handled it.”

Clint’s pretty sure there’s not a request in the world that Bucky could ask of Steve that wouldn’t end up a yes eventually.

“Besides,” Clint adds cheerfully. “That’s why Bruce is here. You can patch me up, right Doc?”

“Not that kind of Doctor,” Bruce protests with a groan.

“If you’d just let me pull a few strings at Harvard--” Tony starts, jabbing Bruce playfully in the ribs.

“Clint will be fine,” Natasha insists. “If I never killed him, Bucky won’t.”

She’s cut from saying more when the gym doors swing open.

Steve walks in first, looking not very impressed, followed by Bucky who looks… well, like Bucky always looks. Alert. Careful. Just the littlest bit murdery.

He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants and a deep red t-shirt in what Clint’s come to think of as Bucky’s second uniform. Basically the opposite of whatever that leather nonsense HYDRA dressed him in would have been like to move around in.

“You don’t have to spar him, Bucky,” Steve says quietly. “I’m still not sure it’s--”

“I’m doin’ it,” Bucky cuts him off. “I’ve gotta start somewhere. You’re here if I get out of hand. And you brought the suit, right?”

He says that to Tony, though he doesn’t make eye contact.

“It’s waiting in the wings,” Tony says.

 _That_ gets Steve’s attention. “Buck--”

“He won’t need it,” Bucky says. “Just want to make sure it’s here.” His eyes meet Tony’s, even if only for a second. “Don’t hesitate.”

“This is supposed to be fuuuuun,” Clint whines from the floor. “Can everyone stop acting like we’re planning my funeral? Bucky, you’re on the team. We know you aren’t brainwashed anymore. You’re not gonna go all Winter Soldier on me. I know you won’t.”

“You know that for a fact,” Steve sighs. He swipes his hand through his hair in what Clint spots as a nervous habit. And he gets it. Steve’s not being an overprotective dick. He’s scared for his friend. For both his friends.

“It’ll be fine. You ready?” Clint asks Bucky.

The longer they talk about this, the bigger a deal it’s going to become.

Bucky nods.

Clint stands and picks up both eggs.

“Okay. So the only rules here are that we stay on the mat, either of us can call time-out at any time for any reason, and the egg has to stay in our left hand. Whoever keeps their egg alive the longest wins.”

“That--” Tony says, scrunching up his face. “That’s not how eggs work.”

Clint shoots Tony a smile. “I make my own science.”

“That’s not how _science_ works,” Tony protests.

Clint’s the only one looking at Bucky to see his hint of a smile. It never fails that Clint can draw one out of him by getting Steve or Tony’s panties in a twist.

He tosses Bucky one of the eggs carefully and then moves to the center of the mat.

“JARVIS, you got my playlist?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Jarvis replies.

“Then on your mark,” Clint says. He looks at Bucky for a nod. When he gets it, he continues. “Get set… go.”

The first beats of a Britney Spears classic thunk over the speakers.

“Really, Barton?” Tony asks.

Natasha nods her approval.

It does make for an adorably confused Bucky for all of about three seconds and it definitely lends an audible Don’t Kill Clint reminder to the session. The rest of the soundtrack is about the same. Justin Timberlake. Britney Spears. Clint doubts he’ll makes it through the first song with his egg in tact but hey! Optimism!

For all the worry leading up to it, once they’re actually sparring it’s an awful lot of fun. Suck it _everybody_ who doubted Clint’s genius.

The egg in his metal hand seems to keep Bucky grounded in a way nothing else has yet. And without weapons, Clint’s agile enough and good enough at dodging that he does manage a leg sweep on Bucky within the first twenty seconds. If anything would set off Winter Soldier Kill Mode, it’d be something like that, but Bucky hops right back up and he isn’t fazed. He actually seems to settle down and look a lot less tense.

Which means the ass-kicking they all know is coming happens at right about the same time.

Bucky moves so fast and he’s so focused, it takes every bit of Clint’s considerable fight experience to not trip himself up in his haste to get out of Bucky’s way. The only chance he’s got is to let momentum do most of the work for him and fight more in Natasha’s style than his own. Which he’s been practicing with Natasha for the last two weeks so he’s… passably not embarrassing himself. He even gets in a few hits, hard enough that Clint’s knuckles ache when they connect with Bucky’s body.

And then Bucky makes his move. He sweeps Clint’s legs out from under him and Clint hits the mat hard. His left hand slams into the ground and the egg shatters into shell and goo. Bucky moves to trap him and for a split second it does give Clint a scare because Bucky pins him so quickly and there’s so much ferocity and murder intent in his movement that anyone with half a lick of sense would feel fear. But once Bucky’s face is within Clint’s view, he knows instantly everything’s okay.

Bucky’s smiling.

Or well. Smiling is probably a stretch. Bucky’s not frowning. It’s a hint to the positive side of neutral. And his eyes are right. Not dead and emotionless like Clint’s seen on the Winter Soldier.

“I give, I give,” Clint grumbles. “My egg is dead.”

Bucky’s eyes go to Clint’s hand and Clint opens his fist. Yolk leaks out onto the mat.

“Now help me up,” Clint insists. “I don’t think my legs are gonna support me on their own.”

Bucky reaches down to lift Clint (which he can do like Clint weighs nothing) and the second Bucky’s within reach, Clint throws his egg hand forward and smears it on Bucky’s shirt.

“And here no one thought I could bring you out of your shell,” Clint teases.

Bucky’s body goes tense in surprise.

“Clint!” Steve scolds.

It seems like the whole gym goes silent except Bucky, who _laughs._ He looks almost as startled by the noise as Clint is. Then Bucky squeezes his own egg, crushing it with his metal hand, before leaning down to wipe off the egg mess in Clint’s hair.

“I’d say you crack me up,” Bucky retorts quietly. “But you’re really not that funny.”

Hearing the ex-fist of HYDRA make an egg pun is one of the top ten moments in all of Clint’s life and no one will ever take that away from him.

*

Things get easier from there.

Bucky’s still quiet. But he’s not _as_ quiet. Especially around Clint. Before Egg Sparring, Bucky only showed up around the tower if Steve was present. But now he’ll show up randomly when Clint’s in the tower and not hanging out with other Avengers. Which generally means in the archery range.

It happens three, maybe four, Sundays in a row. Clint shows up to spend a couple of hours in target practice and Bucky slips in the door and takes a seat on the ground off to the side and watches. He always has a book with him, or a tablet, so his focus isn’t entirely on Clint, but he’s there.

Clint never asks him about it. He’ll give him a nod of acknowledgement and then get on with his business. He figures Bucky probably just needs a break from Steve. Not that Steve’s not great. Steve’s great.

It’s just even the very best of friends can’t hang out every minute of the day without wanting to knock each other through a wall every now and then. And since wall-knocking is a very real possibility between two super soldiers, it can only be a good thing that Bucky’s getting some time to himself.

It’s the fifth (fourth? Who knows. Clint’s had a lot of concussions) Sunday when Clint brings Lucky along. 

Bucky opens the door, takes one look at Pizza Dog, who lets out an excited bark and shuts the door again.

_Shit._

“Stay,” Clint begs Lucky, and then takes off out the door. Bucky’s already at the other end of the hall.

“Sorry!” Clint says. “Didn’t know you didn’t like dogs.”

This is the first time they’ve said more than a word or two of acknowledgement outside of missions since Egg Day.

“I didn’t want to bother you if you have company,” Bucky says simply.

“Oh, Lucky’s not company. I mean, guess he is, but this isn’t like our special afternoon together or anything. We hang out at night and in the mornings. I actually brought him cause I thought you might like to meet him. He’s lazy as shit and if you’re sitting there reading he’ll just kind of smush onto you and it’s… I dunno. Nice. At least I think it’s nice.”

“You brought him to meet me,” Bucky repeats quietly.

“Yeah,” Clint agrees. “He’s a good dog.”

“He only has one eye,” Bucky says.

“Noticed that, huh?” Clint sighs. “He had a rough life before we met. Abusive owners who beat the shit out of him on the regular. Now things are way better. He mostly wanders around looking for affection or pizza. The one eye thing doesn’t slow him down a bit.”

Bucky looks skeptical. “And the dog reminds you of me?” he asks.

“Oh-- no. God, no. I’m not comparing you to my dog. Lucky reminds me of _me_ ,” Clint clarifies. “Or well-- I guess I look at Lucky and see what I’d like to be. It’s stupid, I guess. He’s just kind of an inspiration. Lots of dogs who’ve been abused would be mean-- vicious even. Lucky’s not like that. All that pain in his past and it doesn’t define him.”

Bucky nods solemnly. “I’d like to meet your dog.”

“Awesome,” Clint says brightly. “Cause I know he’ll be excited to meet you.”

Just as Clint predicted, the minute Bucky settles onto the floor, Lucky’s stuck on Bucky like glue. At first Bucky still looks a little tense, but Clint just lets them be and when he looks over about twenty minutes later, Bucky’s holding his book in his metal hand and stroking Lucky’s fur with his other. Lucky’s head is nestled in Bucky’s lap and the dog is fast asleep.

Lucky’s not the only one who’s gotten comfortable. Clint’s never seen Bucky look so relaxed. Pizza Dog is definitely coming around more often.

*

“Barton,” Tony sighs. “What’d I tell you about letting your mutt up on the couch?”

Clint doesn’t take offense, because Tony might act secretly grumpy about the dog but Clint’s caught him sneaking Lucky down to the lab to play fetch with the bots, so he knows Tony’s got a soft spot.

Bucky doesn’t know, though, and in the month since Lucky’s been hanging out at the tower on Sundays, this is the first time Clint’s seen Bucky give anyone his murder eyes.

“Lucky’s with me,” Bucky says. “You got a problem with that?”

It speaks volumes about Tony’s ability to diffuse situations (when he wants to) that he doesn’t startle under a Winter Soldier glare. Instead he keeps eye contact with Bucky and doesn’t back down.

“Not as long as you figure out how to use the hand-vac once he hops down,” Tony says. “And don’t give me that look like I kicked the puppy. Lucky knows I insult my favorites. Don’t you, Cyclops?”

At Tony’s attention, Lucky’s tail starts wagging and he hops down off the couch to trot over to Tony, who drops down to one knee. Clint rolls his eyes as he watches Tony reach into his pocket and pull out something that looks suspiciously like a dog treat and slip it into Lucky’s mouth.

Lucky wags his tail excitedly and Tony ruffles his hand over the dog’s head and gives his ears a scratch.

“Such a dumb dog,” Tony grumbles, before standing up and walking away.

Bucky warms up to Tony a lot more quickly after that.

*

Hanging out a little turns into hanging out a lot. Pretty much any time Clint’s at the tower, he’ll stay for an extra few hours to order pizza, play an extravagant game of Hide and Seek, or try his hand at baking, since Bucky’s developed an interest in learning to cook. At first Bucky doesn’t say a whole lot, but honestly he doesn’t have to. Clint can ramble enough for two, and it’s kind of nice to just have a human around to listen. Not that Lucky doesn’t seem to enjoy Clint’s constant chatter, but on some level a dog is a dog.

And then one day, so slowly Clint barely notices that it happens, Bucky starts to talk. Turns out, he’s got a whole lot to say once you get him going. At first it’s about all the stuff he thinks is stupid about the future (the 24-hour news cycle, people who don’t vaccinate kids, too many flavors of Kool-aid) and it kind of builds from there.

Bucky is quick-witted and hilarious. Salty about a ton of stuff but also kind in a way Clint finds incredibly appealing. And Lucky _loves_ Bucky. 

It’s just after Labor Day when a few of the Avengers stage an intervention.

“Sit,” Natasha says, as she Rhodey and Tony corner Clint down in the lobby.

Tony offers him a large to-go latte, and Natasha pushes a muffin in his direction. It’s like the classic set-up for the “mommy and daddy are divorcing talk” and Clint eyes them warily.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” Natasha says firmly. “You’re fine. But we still need to talk.”

“About Bucky,” Tony adds helpfully.

“What about him?” Clint asks.

He tries to think of anything destructive they’ve done lately, like being too rough in the vents or blowing up a coffee pot or… well anything, but he’s drawing a blank.

“We’ve noticed how chummy you are,” Rhodey says.

“We aren’t sure _you’ve_ noticed,” Natasha adds.

“Or that Terminator’s figured it out either,” Tony chimes in.

“Don’t call him that,” Clint says automatically. Even though he knows Tony means it in the nice way. “And I don’t really get what you’re getting at.”

“You’ve got a crush,” Tony states plainly. “And he’s gay as a May Pole. He and Steve were talking about it at lunch last week. Bucky told us he didn’t care who knew, so consider yourself informed.”

“He really did say that,” Rhodey confirms. “He had to hide it in the 40s because of-- well-- the 40s.”

“It’s in his twitter bio now,” Tony adds. “If you still think we’re pranking you. Which also ouch. I might be an asshole sometimes but I’m not _that_ kind of asshole.”

“The way he looks at you, Clint,” Natasha says gently. “I know you, and I know how long it takes you to notice these things. We thought it couldn’t hurt to give your vision an adjustment.”

“Wait…” Clint trails off. Replays a _whole_ lot of his most recent interactions with Bucky and yup-- it tracks. Clint’s fondness could totally be more if he’d ever in a million years thought there was a chance there. And apparently there is. “Right. You think if I asked him out on a date he’d say yes?”

“We do,” Rhodey confirms. “And he’s upstairs right now.”

Tony pats Clint on the shoulder. “Go get ‘im, Tiger.”

*

Asking Bucky out on a date is the easy part. Clint’s not a wuss, and with the knowledge that Bucky’s got some interest in men it seems like the most natural thing in the world that they’d take their hanging out to the next level.

Bucky readily agrees.

Clint kind of plans out an evening for the next night but he leaves a lot of room for doing whatever Bucky wants. Bucky has a few strong opinions.

“M’not really a fan of movie theaters,” Bucky explains, as they walk out of the tower together at 6 pm for their first date. “It’s too dark. Too many angles.”

“I’m right there with you,” Clint agrees. “If you’re cool with going to the park by my house, I just figured we could climb some shit. Figure out where we’d plant ourselves if we had a mission there.”

It’s what they do around the tower a lot, but this time it’s outdoors and despite it being the worst date ever for 99% of the population, Bucky smiles.

“I’d like that,” he confirms.

They spend the next hour of dimming light climbing up trees, parkouring over walls and kids playground equipment, and discussing the merits of sniper angles. The park is mostly deserted and the few people who walk through give them wary glances that make both of them laugh because strangers sure as hell don’t give Steve and Tony those looks.

“I like being trouble,” Clint admits, once they’ve collapsed onto a chilly bench to catch their collective breaths. “Probably shouldn’t, but I got sick of the spotlight in the circus and it’s just better if people look at me and want to leave me alone.”

“I don’t want anyone looking at me,” Bucky says. “S’why I won’t cut my hair or wear any of the stuff Steve and Sam suggested for tonight. They are _real_ invested in this working out.”

“Seriously?” Clint asks.

Bucky shrugs. “Think they need love lives of their own. Since Steve can’t get up the balls to do anything more than stare at Stark when Stark’s not lookin’, he puts his nose in my business.”

“Tony and Rhodey and Nat did the same thing to me. Stopped me in the lobby to talk to me about you.”

“Steve wanted me to wear a shirt with _buttons_ ,” Bucky says in false horror. “That’s one step down from a bowtie. But he was such shit on dates when we were kids, I wouldn’t trust his opinion any farther than I could throw him. Sam either. ‘M pretty sure he’s datin’ his hand.”

Clint laughs. “I think all of them are talking out their asses. Except maybe Nat. I’m pretty sure she might be seeing one of the Yankees.”

Bucky looks scandalized. “And here I thought she had some taste.”

The wind blows colder and Clint shivers. “You ready to start walking again? I figured we could go get some street eats. There’s a heated patio at one of the dive bars up a couple blocks that’ll let you eat whatever you bring with you as long as you buy a beer.”

“Lead the way,” Bucky agrees.

It’s hands down the best date Clint’s ever had, and that includes his first date with Bobbi when they got to third base in the back of a Quinjet.

The only hiccup happens as they leave the bar and walk straight into the track-suited thugs who caused problems all over Brooklyn. The same ones who’d abused Lucky once upon a time, though Clint doesn’t tell Bucky it’s them since he’s hoping to walk away with minimal bloodshed. And of fucking course one of the assholes opens his mouth and says the dumbest thing possible.

“You still livin’ around here, bro? Thought we scared you off for good. Maybe you need reminding what we can do.”

Bucky puts a hand on Clint’s side and gives him a nudge backward. Under the streetlight, Clint gets a very, very good look at Bucky’s (ought to be patented) Winter Soldier Murder Glare.

When he speaks, it’s in quiet, menacing Russian. 

Clint has never seen two healthy adults go so very pale. A whiff of urine hits Clint’s nose and he’s not sure if it’s from the alley or if one of these thugs has pissed himself. The men back away a couple of steps and then take off running.

Bucky watches them go with the eyes of a predator.

“You’re not gonna come back tonight and kill them, are you?” Clint asks. “Cause you don’t have to. I’ve got this.”

Bucky’s eyes soften a little and he looks more like himself as he wraps an arm around Clint. “M’not gonna kill them tonight. But if they bother you again-- they know who’s comin’ for them.”

“We can’t really do that,” Clint points out. “Not without a lot of trouble.”

“Someone would halfta know it was me,” Bucky says. “And unlike you, my methods won’t give me away. Find an arrow stickin’ out of someone, you’re the number one suspect.”

“That’s why I try not to go shooting people outside of missions,” Clint says. “Well that, and I’m just done with the lifestyle. Whenever possible I want to make the world a better place without all the bloodshed.”

Bucky considers his words. “You don’t want me to kill them.”

“I don’t want you to kill them,” Clint agrees. “But scare them all you want. Scare them off to another continent and I’ll owe you big time.”

Bucky nods. Clint gets the feeling it’s as good as done.

They start walking again and Clint guides them in a specific direction. They reach their destination without any trouble. It’s a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop called Alma’s that doesn’t even have an interior. Just a window you step up to and order.

“That’s my building right there,” Clint tells Bucky, pointing toward home. “And this is why I bought it. Best coffee in the world, right across the street. Or hot cocoa for you, if you like that better.”

“I do,” Bucky confirms.

They get their orders quickly and drink them on the way to the subway. 

It’s late. After eleven at least. They’ve gone the entire date barely touching but as they walk down the street their hands brush against each other multiple times. It sends a jolt down Clint’s spine every single time. He’s not even sure how that’s possible. They spar. They’ve wrestled. They touch in a dozen different ways over the course of an afternoon in the tower but it has never, ever felt like this.

They stop at the top of the station stairs.

“This is where I leave,” Bucky says.

Clint nods. He could kiss Bucky, he really could. And it’s tempting. It’s _so_ tempting. But Bucky takes a step back and the moment is gone and Clint’s-- well, Clint isn’t always brave.

“See you soon,” Clint agrees.

Then spends the whole walk home wishing he was just a little more smooth.

*

They go on three more dates. They don’t kiss. Bucky always seems a little hesitant and Clint can feel some HYDRA history there that he’s not gonna force. Things will happen in their own time. Clint believes that.

He really ought to know better.

Shit goes ass-up their very next mission. One second Clint’s fine, keeping look-out and picking off the bad guys, and the next second the world goes still.

Everything freezes, including the breath in his chest.

_Fuck no please no not again._

It’s like Loki all over. Except this time there’s no staff. There’s no one anywhere near him. But there is the distinct and miserable feeling of taking backseat in his own body and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it. All he can do is watch.

No one on the team notices. It happens in a split second. One second he’s Clint and the very next second he’s not Clint. A voice rumbles in his head.

“You’ll do.”

From there, Clint sees what’s happening through the connection they share. There’s an inhuman a floor below him. He’s in Clint’s thoughts. He’s got all the control.

“Backup, I need backup,” Clint hears himself say. And then he’s running toward the edge of the building. “Stark. I need you _right now_.”

Why? Clint doesn’t know why. What the endgame is. All he knows is that he is absolutely going over the low roof wall. He tries to fight for control and he might as well be punching the wind for all the good it does him.

Iron Man appears down the block. Flies toward him. Clint’s up so high and that doesn’t stop the inhuman below from forcing him to fling himself off the building. Clint’s still not sure why until it’s too late. Tony catches him.

“Put me on the ground,” Clint is forced to say into the comms. 

There’s a battle going on down the street so Tony doesn’t ask questions (why would he?), he just aims toward the ground. They’re about ten stories up when Clint feels his arm reach for his quiver. Knows automatically what arrow he’s going for, and then jams an EMP arrow into the joint of Tony’s suit. It fires up on impact.

Tony and Clint drop like rocks. 

“What the fu--” is all Tony gets out as he twists in the air, still trying to protect Clint. To cushion the fall. Somehow he ejects a chute, which does nothing but yank Clint upward in a tangle of rope and yet somehow that split second of quick thinking is enough. Tony lands like a pancake. Clint’s able to twist and jerk and land hard but not so hard that anything’s gonna be wrong except some cuts and bruises.

Clint stands, still stuck in his own brain. Still helpless to do anything but watch. He pulls out an exploding arrow and takes off down the street toward the other Avengers.

“Hawkeye, what happened!”

“Hawkeye, report!”

“Hawkeye, Stark’s not responding!”

He hears it all over his comm. He screams in his skull. The imposter keeps a tight hold on him as he charges on. And he knows. He _knows_ that Steve is his next target.

A blinding hot pain slices through his thigh. He falls. It’s agony.

It’s a bullet.

The presence who was controlling him loses some of his hold. Natasha appears in his vision first, followed by Bucky, who’s the one holding the gun.

Natasha’s fist connects with Clint’s jaw and the world goes black.

Thank god for cognitive recalibration.

*

He wakes up in a cell in the tower. There’s no SHIELD left to contain him. He’s fastened to the med-bed and Bruce is next to him.

“Clint? Is that you?” Bruce asks gently.

Clint could respond (he’s all alone in his head again) but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word.

“Clint, I need you to talk to me,” Bruce prompts again. “Can you give me a sign? You in there?”

Clint closes his eyes.

“I’m almost done here,” Bruce sighs. He places his hand gently on Clint’s shoulder. “We know about the inhuman. Bucky and Natasha tracked him down. They ummm… got creative… to get a confession. I didn’t really ask a lot of questions. You’ve been out for about 16 hours. I’d really like to go see Tony now if you’re okay.”

Tony. If Bruce is going to go see him and not green or teary-eyed, then Stark’s gonna live.

Clint keeps his eyes closed and nods minutely.

“Bucky and Natasha are right outside. They’re going to come in and talk to you. If they’re satisfied, they’ll let you up out of the bed, okay? We know you’d never hurt any of us. What happened-- that was all the Mindbender.”

Clint goes still, and tries to fake passing out again. He just wants to be left alone. Will stay in this bed in this cell forever if they’ll let him.

He knows they won’t, but a guy’s got to try.

*

He won’t talk to Bucky or Natasha. 

Clint does sit up and eats and drinks eventually because he’s not looking to end things. He’s not… okay… but he’s not done with life either. He’s just done with the parts of life that include human contact.

So they know he’s awake and capable of movement. They aren’t as sure that there’s not something wrong with his brain. They try a couple more times, but Clint stays blank.

_I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m not here._

It’s a technique Coulson taught him back in the day to withstand torture. You just aren’t there. You go somewhere else. People can talk to you (Nat and Bucky do), they can hurt you (Nat and Bucky don’t), they can whatever-- doesn’t matter. You aren’t in your body so it doesn’t count.

Bruce comes back. He talks to Clint in his quiet, soothing tones. He tells him Tony’s going to be okay. He’s got lots of broken bones but they’ve called for Doctor Cho and she’ll get him fixed right up. They just need Clint to come back to them.

A whole day passes. More of the Avengers stop by. Even Steve, who hasn’t left Tony’s side for any other reason. 

“No one’s mad at you,” Steve says. “We’re worried. All of us are worried. Tony’s coming home tomorrow and he’s insisting this is going to be his first stop so he can yell some sense into you about how much this isn’t your fault. Doesn’t sound fun.”

Clint opens his eyes. “Tell him to stay away,” he whispers.

He probably shouldn’t have.

Once they know he’s there, they come back with a little more force. They unlock him from the med-bed and Bucky _carries_ him to Clint’s tower room. The room has a connected bathroom so in theory he could just never leave. He could stay there forever.

There’s food waiting for him, and coffee and all his favorites. 

There’s also a note from Tony. Clint puts it aside for later.

JARVIS tries to console him.

“Lockdown my room, JARVIS,” Clint insists. “I mean it. No one gets in without my permission.”

“As you wish, sir,” JARVIS says evenly. If it’s possible for an AI to sound regretful, JARVIS does.

Hours pass.

“Sir-- Ms. Romanoff is requesting--” 

“Nope.”

“Sir-- Captain Rogers--” 

“Nope.”

“Sir, Sergeant Barnes is removing the bolts from the overhead ventilation system and--” 

“Patch me through and keep him on mute,” Clint directs. “Bucky. I know you’re trying to do what you think I need, but what I need is for you to leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to talk to you. I just-- I need some time. I need you to go away.”

Clint’s glad there’s no visual so Bucky doesn’t see the tears stinging at the edge of his eyes. 

“Sergeant Barnes is acquiescing to your request, sir. You will be left alone.”

Great.

Clint gets exactly what he wants. If it feels like a knife to the heart, that just means it’s working.

*

The one person Clint can’t entirely ignore is Tony, and that’s because guilt is a disease and Clint is not immune. When Tony gets back to the tower and requests entrance to the room (which he doesn’t have to do. Tony can override JARVIS, Clint knows that), he allows it.

“Gimme two minutes,” is all Clint says.

He changes out of his pajamas and makes the bed. He’s sitting upright and trying not to look miserable when Tony walks in. His only remaining injuries are an eye that’s swollen shut (Natasha throws a mean right hook) a wrap around where the bullet passed through his thigh, and some bandages on his left arm and face from landing hard after the fall.

“You look like shit,” Tony declares.

“So do you,” Clint retorts.

It’s at least the kind of greeting that doesn’t make things awkward.

“Barton-- how long are you going to keep this up?” Tony sighs.

He gingerly takes a seat on the chair in the corner. His arm’s in a sling, he’s got bruises and a limp. If it’s this bad after Doctor Cho’s work, Clint doesn’t want to think about how bad it would have been before that.

“Long as it takes,” Clint says.

“Takes for what?” Tony asks.

“For everyone to give up on me,” Clint says plainly. “And let me go on my way.”

“No one’s keeping you here,” Tony says. “You’re free to go right now if you want. This isn’t a prison.”

“It should be,” Clint insists. “That’s where I belong.”

“Clint--”

“Don’t,” Clint sighs. “I know, okay? I know it’s not my fault. You don’t think I know that? That it was out of my control?”

“No?” Tony ventures. “If you did, you wouldn’t be punishing yourself like this.”

“It’s what I deserve,” Clint says. “I’m a bad person. If I was a good person, the bad guys wouldn’t always go for me. They’d do what they do to you and Steve: try to kill you. Not decide to _use_ you. I’m just-- I’m not worth anything, except as a weapon or a piece of shit carnie and all the asshole villains know it and I’m done. I’m done trying to be anything more. I hate it. I hate all this.”

Tony’s quiet. Eerily quiet. So quiet Clint has to turn to look at him to make sure he hasn’t passed out from his injuries.

“I understand,” Tony says. “I don’t think you’re right, but I understand.”

“I’m not wrong,” Clint says. “First Loki, then this guy. What about the next guy? At some point, I’m gonna kill one of you because it’s never going to stop unless I stop it. And the only way to stop it is to run. I’m resigning as an Avenger effective immediately. I’ll let you tell Steve.”

“Hear me out, and then I’ll pass that along,” Tony says. “First of all, Loki _did_ try to control me and he couldn’t because the arc reactor protected my heart. Had nothing to do with being good and everything to do with a piece of metal I got cause I was broken. And since you’re wrong about that, will you consider the possibility that you’ve got the rest of this backwards, too?”

Tony looks at Clint expectantly and Clint shrugs. Tony plows on.

“What if they go for you because there’s nothing evil people want more than to snuff out the light? What if they hate you because you’re good, and they use you because you’re incredible.”

“Those are some nice thoughts,” Clint says. “Bullshit, but nice.”

“Think about it,” Tony urges.

“Thank you,” Clint says instead. “For everything. Really. I’m glad I got to know you.”

“I’m glad I got to know you, too.”

Clint turns away. Tony seems to understand he’s being dismissed. He stands as carefully as he sat, and he puts a hand on Clint’s shoulder and squeezes as he walks past.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

*

There’s nothing to pack. Clint’s already been given back his bow and his quiver and he slings them on his back, tells JARVIS to open the doors, and he walks out less than ten minutes after telling Tony he’s resigned. 

He doesn’t expect Bucky to be standing there. He expects the go-bag even less. 

“What’s this?” Clint asks. 

“Look,” Bucky says.

It’s unzipped, and at a glance Clint sees stacks of cash that have got to add up to a couple hundred thousand dollars and a half a dozen passports. There’s also a gun. It’s everything it would take for Clint to disappear for a long time.

“I don’t want you to go,” Bucky says. “But when you go, go safe. An’ if it’s okay with you, I’ll bring Lucky here to stay with me.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Clint agrees. “Was gonna ask Kate but Lucky’s more used to the tower. Thanks.”

“Least I can do.”

Clint reaches for Bucky and drags him into a hug. The bag is between them and the bow means Bucky can’t really hug back but-- it’s a hug and Clint hopes that it can tell Bucky all the things he can’t.

When Clint lets go and walks away, he doesn’t look back.

*

Clint might not have anything of his at the tower that he needs, but there are a couple of things he wants from home. And saying goodbye to Lucky isn’t easy, so Clint curls up next to him for a couple of hours on the couch. Then it’s an hour from dawn and Clint just needs to breathe. Just for a few minutes. Then he’ll go.

He trudges up to the roof. It’s still dark, or as dark as it ever gets in Bed-Stuy and unseasonably warm for the beginning of November. Nearly 60. Which is just as well, since Clint left everything, including his coat, down in his apartment.

The best vantage point is the northeast corner, opposite the grill, and yet somehow Clint still misses that anyone’s come looking for him until Bucky steps out onto the roof.

He’s carrying a to-go cup of coffee from Alma’s. Clint would recognize it anywhere, even in the dim light.

“How’d you know I wasn’t already gone?” Clint asks.

Bucky gives a slight shake of his head as he sits next to Clint and puts the coffee down between them.

“I didn’t know,” Bucky says. “I hoped. And you’re--” Bucky’s voice is so low Clint can barely hear it. “You’re the one who showed me hope was something okay to feel.”

Clint’s got no idea what to say to that. He feels like a total tool, but he doesn’t speak. All his words are pointless. When Bucky speaks again, Clint’s caught by surprise. He honestly thought his silence would be goodbye.

“I know better than anyone what it means to be used. To be taken out of your own thoughts and have someone else stuffed in. I don’t talk about it,” Bucky says. “Because who would want to hear?”

God, Clint can’t resist his quiet “I would.”

“Doesn’t hurt like it used to,” Bucky continues. “Especially lately. Someone real smart showed me that an ugly past didn’t have to define my future.”

“You think I’m smart?”

“I was talkin’ about the dog,” Bucky admits, with the slightest of smiles.

Clint nods. “That makes more sense.”

“I shot you. Did you know that?”

Not where Clint saw Bucky’s words going but since when had they ever gone the normal route?

“I figured,” Clint says.

The shot to his leg had gone straight through. It had missed everything important and was healing so well he only had the slightest limp. Bucky was the only person outside of Clint who could have made that clean a shot.

“I wasn’t gonna let someone use you, and I knew that’s what had happened,” Bucky explains. “You weren’t walking like you. You didn’t sound like you, even if I caught it a second too late. I wasn’t gonna give you to somebody to be a toy or a weapon or a-- thing. I’d have killed you first, if that leg shot didn’t stop you.”

That probably shouldn’t sound half as reassuring as it does.

“I was a toy and a weapon and a thing,” Bucky adds solemnly. “There’s nothing worse. Not anything.”

It’s a confession Clint never wanted to hear, and one he knows instinctively Bucky has not shared with anyone else. He doesn’t ask for clarification. He can guess how far some of those words went.

“They could use me again,” Bucky continues. “We got those trigger words out of my brain but I don’t know if there are more left inside. And there is no one-- _no one_ \-- who I would trust to stop me like I would trust you.”

Of everything Bucky could have said that wouldn’t make a difference, he goes and says something that does.

“You gave me the go-bag,” Clint says.

“Doesn’t mean I want you to go. I just know how it feels-- bein’ afraid you’re gonna hurt someone you love. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially you. I’m not good at sayin’ it-- I’m probably not good at actin’ it-- Letting you go was how I could show you....”

It takes Clint a few seconds to put all that together. To get what Bucky’s saying.

Oh.

“I’m not going,” Clint says.

Deep down he’s not sure he was ever going to go. If he really was, he’d have already been gone by now.

“Not-- don’t feel pressure,” Clint adds. “It’s not that what you’re saying is going to fix everything. I’m not okay. Not sure when I’ll be okay again. But some things are worth sticking around and fighting for. And a guy who’ll shoot me and trust me to shoot him-- I’d like to see where that goes.”

***Six Weeks Later***

“You’ve lived here how long, Barton?” Tony asks.

“Bout a year,” Clint admits.

“You just… didn’t unpack?” Steve asks.

“Didn’t seem important,” Clint sighs.

“Did you two come to yap or to work?” Bucky asks, handing Tony a box from the top of the pile.

“Who says the two are mutually exclusive?” Tony asks.

“Bucky does,” Steve says. “He’s been like this since we were six. Other kids would be at the park having fun. We’d be building a dirt civilization out of muds and sticks and it sure wasn’t about us having _fun_.”

“Just cause you lacked vision--” Bucky protests.

The box he hands to Steve he hands over a lot harder. Enough to make Steve oomph.

“Hey!” Clint protests playfully. “There could be valuable stuff in there. Who knows? Cause I sure don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head as he steps over to wrap an arm around Clint. “You’re a mess, but you’re my mess.”

“And soon, there’s gonna be room for some of your mess to come here and mingle with mine,” Clint says brightly.

“Ugh, get a room,” Tony complains, though his smile gives away that he’s just teasing.

“Us going into the bedroom is not going to make our flirting better for you,” Bucky adds.

“Our sex is both enthusiastic and loud,” Clint announces.

They haven’t had sex yet, but it’s worth the lie just to see the looks of amused surprise on Tony and Steve’s faces.

Both Clint and Bucky start laughing, and give the joke away. Doesn’t matter. They’re happy. They are _really_ happy. And Clint never thought that was something that was going to be his to have.

It only takes them about a half an hour to unbox the rest of the place, and under Bucky’s supervision they get it mostly spic and span. Lucky’s off with Katie-Kate, so they even manage to sweep up the dog fluff floating around down by the edges of the cabinets. The only remaining area of disaster is the DVR and all associated cables.

“You and Stark can tackle this,” Clint says to Bucky. “We’ve still got half an hour before Dog Cops comes on so you should have time. Me and Steve can run out for tacos.”

Bucky takes a seat on the floor and Clint leans down over him to place a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I’ll be right back.”

“I never doubt it,” Bucky confirms.

The taco place is a couple blocks away so it takes Clint and Steve about fifteen minutes to get there and back with dinner. The door’s still cracked open from when they left, and Clint can hear Bucky and Tony arguing from inside.

“I said the green one. Does this look green to you?” Tony asks.

“The green one is the input. If I hand you the green one it’s gonna--”

“ _This_ green one,” Tony argues. Like he’s not snapping at the deadliest assassin the world has ever known.

“Maybe be a little more specific then,” Bucky argues right back. “Cause that’s chartreuse, asshole.”

“That’s a made-up word,” Tony insists. “For a made-up color.”

“You’re a made-up word for a made-up color,” Bucky retorts in a low voice. He sounds amused though. Clint’s heard him use the same voice when he’s bitching at Steve.

“You’re the one who can defuse bombs but can’t sort out DVR wires,” Tony accuses. Also with a level of sass usually reserved for Steve.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been starin’ at them for five minutes and I don’t see any Stark magic happening here, either,” Bucky retorts.

Steve nudges past Clint to open the door.

“Nice to see you two getting along,” Steve quips. 

He stops suddenly which means Clint (who is following close behind) runs into the back of Steve like he’s stepping face first into a brick wall. He sees why a second later. There are dozens of cords tangled in bunches surrounding Tony and Bucky and they’ve got diagrams, and wire cutters, and honest to god, it looks exactly like they’re disarming a nuclear weapon instead of trying to set up the TV to show Dog Cops.

The two men on the floor stare up at Steve with matching glares.

“Guess we’ll just get this plated then,” Steve laughs. “And leave you to it.”

“I’ll open the beer,” Clint offers because he’s helpful like that.

They’re ignored for another minute until the TV stops being fuzz and starts being the show that comes on before Dog Cops.

“With five minutes to spare,” Tony declares. “Beer me.”

Bucky stands up and reaches down a hand (his metal hand) to help Tony to his feet as Clint approaches with their drinks. Clint, Bucky and Tony take the couch and Steve sits on the floor, leaning back comfortably against Tony’s knees. That’s definitely new.

They’ve all got beer and tacos and they settle in for the season finale. The longer the show goes on, the closer Bucky and Clint get, until they’re both propped against each other affectionately. No one wants to move when it’s over, so they pass the trash over to the side and flick through the channels until they find a football game they decide to watch solely because the Iowa team is called the Hawkeyes.

Friends. Food. Football.

It’s so normal it’s _weird_.

By the time the game’s over, it’s nearly midnight.

“Think we’re gonna head back to the tower,” Steve says. “Buck? You coming or staying?”

Bucky looks at Clint. “Staying.”

Clint can’t help the smile that brightens his face. He starts to stand and Bucky tightens his grip around him.

“Uh uh,” Bucky says. “They’re grown adults. They can let themselves out and close the door behind ‘em. M’not ready to get up yet.”

Clint has absolutely no problem with that. Especially when Bucky shifts and hauls Clint down so they’re laying next to each other.

“Geez, kids. Let mom and dad get out of the house first,” Tony laughs.

“Don’t want to think of either of you as my dad,” Clint complains.

“See you two tomorrow?” Steve asks.

“Count on it,” Clint agrees.

Tony holds out a hand toward Steve, and Steve looks happy to take it as they walk out the door. Finally, Bucky and Clint are alone on the couch.

“You think they’re getting cuddly like that in front of everyone else or are we special?”

“You’re special all right,” Bucky agrees, as he slides his hand up Clint’s thigh. “But don’t make me talk about Steve’s love life when I’m aimin’ to enjoy my own. We can figure it out over breakfast.”

“Right. Total boner killer,” Clint confirms. 

It’s not. Clint’s boner is _just_ fine thank you, but it’s worth saying when Bucky laughs. Really, genuinely laughs. It’s one of the best sounds Clint’s ever heard.

“I never thought I could be this happy,” Clint says.

“I never thought I’d be _any_ kind of happy,” Bucky agrees. He hooks a metal finger in the bottom hem of Clint’s shirt and pushes it up several inches before tracing a finger over Clint’s abs. “But then you come into my life, invitin’ me to spar and showin’ up with eggs. Introducing me to your one-eyed dog… how could I have wanted anything but what you had to offer?”

“I’m gonna be real honest-- that was not getting me a lot of second dates before you,” Clint laughs.

Bucky quiets him with a kiss. Soft at first and then more heated as they continue. It’s the first time Bucky’s allowed things to move at a pace more than a crawl, and Clint is _so_ not complaining but he does need to check that it’s all good. As torturous as it is, he pulls away from the kiss.

“You know I’m happy with taking as long as you need, yeah?” Clint asks. “No rush.”

“I want this. I want _you_ ,” Bucky says quietly. And then adds even more quietly, “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” Clint says. “So okay. Best thing ever.”

“Sounds okay then,” Bucky laughs. “I’m convinced. Are you?”

Clint nods. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Bucky tips his head forward to rest his forehead against Clint’s. “Thank you for asking.”

“We take care of each other,” Clint says easily. “It’s what you do when you love someone.”

Bucky’s smile is shy and sweet. “You sayin’ you love me?”

“Sure sounds like it,” Clint admits with a smile of his own. “If that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Bucky agrees. “Best thing ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more of my fics and day to day Avengers thoughts [here on Tumblr.](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com)
> 
> Kudos and comments are the very best!!! 
> 
> <3 Arrow


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